


#278

by Agents_R_Us



Series: Team Spidey [1]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Chest Binding, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Peter is a Green Ranger fan sorry I don't make the rules, Trans Male Character, Trans Peter Parker, binding-related injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-12-02 13:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11510376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agents_R_Us/pseuds/Agents_R_Us
Summary: “You know, before I made you the multi-million-dollar suit, I had Friday compile a list of all the stupid shit she thought you might do.”“I’m guessing this wasn’t on your list.”“This was number 278.”He knows, then. Peter isn’t sure how to feel about that.He shouldn't be surprised. That’s easy to admit because his other feelings are complex, all rolled up together in the pit of his stomach like a hairball. There’s no way he’ll ever untangle the thing, so it’s easier not to acknowledge it exists.





	#278

**Author's Note:**

> Why are notes harder to write than the stories?
> 
> Uh, if you're trans and anything here offends you, don't hesitate to tell me. I'm not a specifically trans guy but I do bind sometimes so a lot of this is pretty personal to me.
> 
> Warning: brief suicide mention

To say it was harder when he was a kid would be a lie.

Peter’s earliest memory is watching the grown-ups talk. It’s a position he’s a little too familiar with: them in a corner, talking in low voices; Peter to the side, wondering what he’s done wrong this time. Their faces were always pinched and a little concerned, but never angry.

That’s how he learned that being weird is worse than being bad.

For a long time, they called him a tomboy. They laughed when he wanted Legos instead of dolls; superheroes instead of princesses; blue instead of pink. There was joking and gentle nudging. When Peter took interest in something traditionally “feminine”, they celebrated.

The worst day of his life was the Christmas Eve of ’05, when Peter was 4 years old.

“No! I don’t want to!” tiny Peter screamed.

“It’s just for the picture,” his mother said.

“You can change right after,” his father promised.

It took all morning, but his parents eventually coaxed/forced him into the red and green dress Grandma Parker had bought him. By noon, they were standing in line so Peter could sit on a sweaty old man’s lap and they could get a decent picture. Peter was miserable and it showed. Aunt May still had that picture pressed between the back pages of her scrapbook.

When they left the mall—Peter now wearing jeans and a grey coat, a green _Power Rangers_ action figure clutched between his little fingers—his parents packed him into the back of their car and they drove down to his aunt and uncle’s apartment in Queens.

“We’ll back in time to open presents,” they said.

They weren’t.

The police came at night, late enough that Peter was supposed to be asleep and early enough that he wasn’t. They talked to Aunt May in the doorframe while Uncle Ben distracted Peter by letting him open a present early: the Green Ranger’s Dinozord, to go with his new action figure.

He fell asleep there, on the couch, watching his aunt leave with the police while Tommy Oliver fought his own Zord.

"Are Mom and Dad going to be okay?"

"Nothing bad happens at Christmas," Ben said.

Kid Peter took his non-answer as a yes, and when Christmas morning came and his aunt and uncle explained that Peter was going to live with them now, he didn't realize what they really meant.

“Can you call me Peter?” he asked.

May nodded with that same crinkly expression on her face.

"Good. When are my parents coming back?"

Uncle Ben started crying in the corner.

The boy jumped off his seat at the table and went over to him, arms extended for a hug.

"I'm sorry."

He didn't ask about his parents again.

That year, Peter’s best Christmas present was the haircut Uncle Ben gave him in the kitchen.

“Just like dad’s?” Peter asked.

“Just like Richard’s.”

 

While it didn’t seem like it then, Peter was a pretty lucky kid.

May and Ben were more informed than his parents had been—and a little better with Google. When they didn’t get something, they asked. Peter, with nothing short of childish simplicity, told them exactly what he felt.

Later, Peter would come to realize exactly how lucky he was. There were kids who had people who didn’t understand, or didn’t like it, or didn’t like _them_. It was easy for him when it wasn’t for a hell of a lot of people.

 _Easier_. He should have said easier, because in no way was it easy.

May and Ben are cool, really, but they don’t get everything. They don’t get why he wants— _needs_ HRT and surgery. There are tons of people, they say, who wait for the former and don’t get the latter at all. Why should he be any different?

They don’t understand because the world seems them—sees their _bodies_ —and doesn’t question them. They don’t understand because they can look at themselves in the mirror and not have their head yelling that this is _wrong_. It didn’t bother him when he was younger and gender was the color shirt you wore, but now he’s in middle school and the divide’s only widening.

He gets a period once and it’s without a doubt one of the worst experiences of his life. Not because of the mess or the cramps, but because it’s the worst reminder that his body isn't always in line with what his head says it should be.

By the time he starts on T, Peter’s already using ace bandages to bind (which, he later learns from Google, is Not Safe™). He isn’t crazy about the needles, but they’re worth it ten times over.

He gets a real (and safe _r_ , because binding is Never Safe™) binder one month later. It’s a pain, no one notices, and he can only wear it for eight hours a day, but Peter feels like he’s passing again for the first time in months. It’s like a breath of air when you’re sitting at the bottom of a pool. Brief, but it’ll keep you going for as long as you need it to.

Then he gets bitten by a radioactive spider; then Uncle Ben dies; then Peter becomes the Spider-Man.

That’s when things get a little trickier, mainly due to the whole “never bind and exercise!” thing. He’s made it through PE thus far because it’s a joke. Sure, he doesn’t get to bench press his books like Michelle, but, with KT tape and—argh—the occasional too-small sports bra, he gets through. But being a superhero is way more demanding than the Captain America Fitness Challenge, or whatever they were calling it now. The thought of swinging off buildings in a binder makes his chest ache, but so does the idea of him doing it in a sports bra.

He thinks about hiding. That’s the easiest thing to do, or at least it should be. But there’s a bicycle thief and an old lady getting mugged and a little boy carting around a tiny Iron Man suitcase who really needs some help getting home. Parker knows there’s no way he’s _not_ being Spider-Man. People need him too much.

Tape’s a bit of a problem, in this situation, because you’re only supposed to attach it at the sides, but the shit he can afford has some adhesive problems. He thinks about using ace again, but decides against it. Other than being Not Healthy™, stuff like ace can fuck up your tissue and—more importantly, to Peter—hurt your chances of a good outcome after surgery. In some cases, your chances of _having_ surgery, and that’s enough to repel him entirely.

It’d be worse if people were _wondering_ , but they’re not. Peter almost feels bad about that one. He knows it’s mostly due to good ol’ sexism, but it works for him. The thought just makes him feel worse.

Sexism is one protection he doesn’t have as Peter Parker, 15-year-old boy. Just after the spider bite, a freshman offed themself and everyone got carted off to some kind of tolerance assembly for the afternoon. Mostly, Peter remembers staring at his shoes while Captain America talks about his totally-not-ex-boyfriend and lists letters even he didn’t know were part of LGBTQ+.

Peter knows no one’s listening, except Ned and possibly Michelle (although, who knows with her?), but he gets anxious anyway. What if someone puts it together?

He doesn’t realize it’s happening, but Ned goes completely cold turkey on dick jokes after that (Flash keeps calling him Penis Parker, but, somehow, that's better than the alternative). Peter’s too relieved to say anything and Ned doesn’t bring it up, so they make plans to pool their money and buy a Lego Death Star. That’s when Peter knows it’s going to be fine.

Fine for Peter, but not for Spidey. It’s funny how that works, isn’t it?

Captain America decides to go AWOL, so Peter gets a new suit and a chance to do some good. The whole thing’s really fucking awesome (except the plane. He doesn’t like planes on principle.) until Peter remembers he can’t wear the thing without a binder.

To be honest, it kind of ruins the moment.

Because these are the things he has to take into consideration. All. The. Fucking. Time.

Peter doesn’t swim. Ever. He doesn’t think he can remember how. The last time, he was a six-year-old on the mandatory fieldtrip in first grade, standing at the edge of the water and trying not to be sick from the smell of chlorine. Only, he didn’t swim that day, either, because of mold or something like it.

And what about girls? Guys? Hell, _anyone_. What’s he—how’s he… how’s he supposed to talk about this with anyone? The closet’s far too inviting. He’s been living there so long he doesn’t know how to be anywhere else.

And that’s when he does The Really Stupid Thing. He wears his binder into battle with Captain fucking America and, by A Real And Actual Miracle, doesn’t die. Which is good.

“Don’t do this at home, kids.”

“What?” Happy’s looking down at his phone. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

When the battle’s more or less over, they’re in a car and Peter tries to take stock of his injuries as nonchalantly as possible. Other than a few bruised ribs and lungs that have seen better days, there’s the radiating pain in his chest. The one that Peter doesn’t tell anyone about because the day was Good™ and he doesn’t want to fuck it up.

He fucks it up by passing out.

 

Peter wakes up in a (hospital?) bed. He isn’t sure because the sheets are dark grey and the sheets are blue. There aren’t any windows; he isn’t sure if it’s day or night.

His body’s numb.

“Careful with the dose, sir,” an electronic voice says. It’s obviously meant to be feminine, like the one in his suit. Peter’s a bit confused by this. Stark’s AI’s were always described as male when he was younger.

Whoever’s administering the drugs stops. A dull, throbbing ache returns to his body, but it’s better than before.

There’s a weird moment when Peter sits up—having, for a second, forgotten—and his chest shifts. Gravity, by the way, is his unofficial worst enemy.

Mr. Stark has his legs kicked up on the end of Peter’s bed and Happy’s standing in the corner. If Peter had to guess, he’d say there are at least two men outside the room. More, if they’re really in a hospital.

“Sir?” Happy says. He nods at Peter. “Kid’s awake.”

“I know.”

Happy waits ten seconds before trying again. “Sir—”

“Take a walk, Happy.”

Peter looks down, getting ready for The Talk.

“You know, before I made you the multi-million-dollar suit, I had Friday compile a list of all the stupid shit she thought you might do.”

“I’m guessing this wasn’t on your list.”

“ _This_ was number 278.”

He knows, then. Peter isn’t sure how to feel about that. He shouldn’t be surprised. It’s all in his medical history, which of course Stark has access to.

He’s surprised anyway. That’s easy to admit because his other feelings are complex, all rolled up together in the pit of his stomach like a hairball. There’s no way he’ll ever untangle the thing, so it’s easier not to acknowledge it exists.

“You got lucky, kid. Nothing broken, just bruised.”

“Mr. Stark, I—”

“Don’t interrupt me.” He looks a little hassled, like he’s not used to being cut off, and that makes him meaner.

When he slides another silver briefcase onto Peter’s legs, the high-school student isn’t sure if he should say anything.

“I made some modifications to the suit. It should be fine, now, without, uh… yeah. You can thank me later.”

Stark’s fingers twitch to a nervous beat as Peter thumbs the locks. Before the Spider-Man can see what’s inside, the Iron Man gets up and starts toward the door. Happy is waiting to take his place.

The handler is holding a white slip of paper. “Okay, kid. No binding until you’re healed. Uh, it says you can use something called KT tape, but you’ve got to cover the, uh—”

“Happy! I, uh, know how to use KT tape.” Peter looks down. This is, most definitely, the most awkward exchange of his life. Including the time he had to ask his aunt for pads.

“Thank god,” the handler says. “Okay, so you can get your stuff, and then we can leave. ‘K? Okay.”

When Peter’s recovered from his embarrassment, he slips out of the bed. He’s still wearing the jeans and t-shirt (and KT tape) that he changed into after the battle, but his shoes are lined up next to the bed. Peter shoves them on his feet and grabs his backpack from a seat in the corner. Everything accounted for, he leaves (he was right—they’re in Stark towers, not a hospital).

Happy drives him and Stark to Queens and things go back to normal. Slightly better, actually, because the new suit has certain considerations taken into account.

(Anyway, he totally leaves Aaron Davis webbed to his car because he calls Parker a girl. Because Peter isn’t one and because he knows soupy ice cream is more than enough to ruin a day. But, hey, attempting to buying illegal weapons is bad or something, so the guy earned it.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. If you've got time, please tell me what you thought.
> 
> EDIT: Someone pointed out that KT tape isn't completely safe and I totally agree! It can cause fungal infections if you don't take it off and rashes, blisters, and sores if it's not applied/removed carefully.
> 
> That being said, it's recommended that you wash with antibacterial soap before applying (make sure you're completely dry first, or you'll sweat the tape off) and then use baby oil or something like it to loosen the adhesive before soaking and taking the tape off in the shower. Not covering your nipples (with something like cotton) could cause diminished blood flow.
> 
> Note that this isn't perfect. Even if you do everything _right_ there are still, as with all binding, risks.
> 
> Generally, KT tape is seen as an alternate to binding during the summer months and/or while doing physical activity. This is because it's not wrapped around the ribs, just to the sides/front, so it doesn't compress like a traditional binder or ace bandages do. But it's an adhesive, and continuous use can cause rashes, sores, etc. Some people even have allergic reactions.
> 
> All binding should be done with caution--there's not one way that's completely safe--but, at the end of the day, you mental health is also really important.
> 
> Sorry for not putting this here earlier, I really should have explained the risks to do with this kind of binding.


End file.
